


eyes in the trees and whispers on the wind

by Lilfunny



Category: The Witcher (TV), The X-Files, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Don't Have to Know X-Files Canon, Established Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Gen, Monster of the Week, but can be read as just friends too, but the modern is 1995, implied geralt/jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23645416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilfunny/pseuds/Lilfunny
Summary: The crashing is getting louder, closer, at an unthinkably fast rate. The volume of noise is telling Mulder that the creature is larger than he'd assumed, and for a creature that large to be that fast, sends cold sweat rolling down his back.The feeling of having to wait for what could be your death, Mulder realizes, is not great.Mulder and Scully trip over a case that has been under their noses this entire time, and find out some pretty big secrets. Possibly even make some friends.
Relationships: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 31
Kudos: 142





	eyes in the trees and whispers on the wind

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I have only watched the first season of the X-Files, so please excuse me if the characterizations seem off. You don't need to have watched the X-Files to read this, and it takes place in the hand-wavy time between episodes in the first season. 
> 
> This was inspired by [this post](https://iamtaran.tumblr.com/post/613438308355325952/x-files-the-witcher-au-fic-idea), by iamtaran on tumblr. I liked it so much I watched the whole first season of the X-Files, then wrote this piece in a few short weeks. I hope you enjoy!! :D
> 
> Un-beta'd
> 
> edit 14/04/2020: Changed wiedzma ->wiedzmin, on the advice of the lovely Anna. Thanks!

Mulder and Scully sit in their car, the smell of woodsmoke and ash heavy through the rolled down windows. Across the street, the remains of mid-century family home smolders. The only leads they had on this case, except for the distressingly high number of victims, had burnt along with what had been their only crime scene. The local fire department, having used high powered hoses to put out the fire, had unfortunately also washed away all of the evidence that Mulder and Scully had just arrived to check out — their last lead after a long, gruelling investigation. 

It hadn't been the first time they'd lost their entire case, the feeling not unfamiliar for anyone who has worked at the FBI as long as Mulder has. 

What makes it sting, is that this case had been the third in as many months that had been blown apart by so-called 'unfortunate accidents'. In Atlanta, key fibre samples are swiped out of the back of a truck. In Memphis, an entire corpse is stolen, under the eyes of the coroner who insists she never left the morgue. All of these coincidences are making Mulder twitchy, and Scully is getting frustrated. 

Mulder knows Scully is too well not to notice how their usual teasing banter is noticeably absent, as they both silently watch the still-smoking rubble of their most recent case. Her brow has deep furrows, and she can't pull her eyes away from the incinerated crime scene across the street. 

Mulder makes a note of how perfectly timed this accident was, to stump both local and federal law enforcement so entirely. 

It is something that Mulder thinks about, long after he pulls away from the curb.

* * *

Mulder and Scully stay for a few more days after the fire to gather whatever new evidence and testimonies they can. Despite the interviews with the few locals willing to talk, the entire case falls flat just as Mulder had expected. With no crime scene, no leads, and oddly enough no new bodies turning up, the whole case goes cold. The case gets put into the mammoth pile of the x-files' cold cases, and largely forgotten in favour of more urgent cases. 

To both Mulder and Scully's growing irritations however, their cases keep falling apart over lost or missing evidence. As the saying goes, once is happenstance, twice is a coincidence, and three times is enemy action. And Mulder and Scully are _well_ over three such incidents. Mulder is starting to suspect that someone - or some organization - does not want them to solve some of their cases.

Back at their office, Mulder digs through the pile of cold cases until he finds the case with the burnt house, where all of the evidence went up in smoke hours before he and Scully drove to the crime scene. He flips through the case briefly, but no new information jumps out at him. He slaps it closed with a tired sigh, and leaves it on the end of his desk. 

As weeks pass two new cases get stacked on top of the first one, that still sits undisturbed on Mulder's desk:

A case about a missing woman who was found after 10 days, appearing to have aged a decade. The night before, a local business owner was killed in a mugging gone wrong except they never took his wallet or any of his valuables.

A different case of odd animal attacks are stopped suddenly, the night after some campers claimed to have heard a hollow snapping noise followed by the faint scent of ozone. Ozone levels in that park are confirmed by a local university to have spiked around the time the campers claimed.

Despite the way the pile of cases on his desk keeps growing, Mulder knows he needs more evidence than his gut feelings to convince Scully.

So he starts more serious research into some old cases that he can recollect that might fit their mysterious suspect's modus operandi. The stack of files on his desk quickly grows as he reviews the cold cases he already has in the X-files department. At first, Mulder is spending a few dozen minutes here and there when he can spare it reviewing their cold cases but the more he reads, however, the more the bigger picture — with a much larger scope than he expected — begins to take shape.

* * *

A few months after the incident with the house fire and the crime scene, Scully catches Mulder going over old cold case x-files over his lunch break. 

"Again?" Scully asks, arms folded over her coat but her tone is amused. Mulder shoots her a look. 

"We both know something's up! C'mon Scully, You aren't naive enough to think that there aren't people who want us to stop doing our work." Scully nods thoughtfully in agreement. "Besides, the question is not who has secrets buried in the bureaucracy. I think this is a much smaller operation." Mulder knows Scully doesn't want to give in to her natural curiosity, but he sees her fortitude wavering. "And you will not _believe_ how far back this goes."

Scully throws her coat back over her desk and sits down in her chair. 

"Brief me then," Scully announces as she spins her chair around to face Mulder. "What lunacy will you be pulling us into now?"

"Well, if you look at some of the older x-files — ones that were investigated long before we entered the academy — you'll see these distinct patterns of deaths that are then followed by an odd, extremely coincidental accident." Mulder stands abruptly, and pivots towards the tall stack of files on his desk and starts to paw through them. Scully leans forward in her chair slightly, tone inquiring, 

"What do you mean?" 

Mulder pulls out a file from the stack and hands it to Scully. 

"Four people were mauled to death in Ironwood State Park, Arizona. Even more are missing, presumed dead. They could never recover the bodies. Official story is a mountain lion." 

"But…?" Mulder smiles.

"I have never heard of mountain lions eating only on nights with a full moon. Like clockwork, Scully, for over eight months. And then there was an accident, on the night before the full moon. One of the park rangers was found on his own cabin's front porch. He'd been stabbed, and wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing. Someone, probably a hiker, found him early that morning and called the police, but when the ranger woke up in the hospital a few days later, he couldn't remember anything about the attacker or who had found him and called the police." 

Scully leans back in her chair, as she places the file on her empty desk beside herself. "That _is_ a weird, highly coincidental accident. Just like the cases we had in Atlanta. And Utah. And about a dozen we've had on the eastern seaboard." And every other case that fell through lately, went unsaid.

"Exactly! Now I know what to look for - odd fires, mysterious and unrelated deaths or muggings, so on." Mulder dives to the bottom of his pile of files and pulls out one from the very bottom of the pile, his motions almost frantic. "This one is the oldest I can find that fits the profile. It is from 1909, barely a year after the FBI was founded." Mulder has that spark in his eye that speaks of the depths of the rabbit hole that this case could lead them down. "I haven't even gone through all of the files here yet. Imagine how many more cases have already been swept under the rug by our little conspiracy?"

Scully looks concerned, and a little bit sad. "Mulder, I know how disappointing-" 

"Scully, I am not making it up. There is a clear pattern of-" Mulder tries to talk over her, but Scully is not one to be easily cowed, and just keeps talking louder.

" _Frustrating_ then. it is to lose a case! We've seen more than our fair share of duds in the past six months, sure." She stares Mulder dead in the eye, tone serious. 

"Accidents that have no other connection other than having happened after a series of deaths — no motive, no methodology, _nothing_ — cannot be definitively linked, unless you find something more concrete." 

She pauses, and her voice goes softer. "It's common for agents to… think outside of the evidence if they have a string of cases that end poorly, or are never seen as finished."

Mulder knows that he thought he had a case. Keyword there being _thought_. His investigative instincts must have led him astray, as they did from time to time. Sometimes he needs Scully to keep his ideas grounded in reality, as she was doing now. He had been grasping at a theory that was unsupported by any strong evidence, he knew that.

"Yeah," Mulder rubs at the spot between his eyes as he sinks heavily back into his chair, Scully's worried gaze on him. "Yeah, I think you're right. The unsolved cases must be getting to me."

* * *

Mulder feels the tiredness that's been dogging at his heels all these long months hit him as he throws some leftover takeout into the microwave. It had been the end of a long day, in a series of long weeks. He loves his job, solving the mysteries no one else will, and Scully is a great partner. When he is alone in his apartment though, the months of fouled cases can get into his bones, a sort of exhaustion that doesn't go away over a weekend. 

The microwave beeps, dragging Mulder out of his spiralling thoughts. He pops open the door and pulls out his dinner, hissing slightly as his fingers burn at the heat from the plate. He shuffles over to his desk, his personal computer finally booted up. Mulder sets down the plate and opens his favourite discussion forum, the one for extraterrestrial enthusiasts. On this particular Thursday night, there are only a few posts. He recognizes the usernames, belonging to frequent contributors on the site. The users are known for their frequent flame attacks on other users on the boards, and how they do nothing but stir up drama. In his terrible mood, the last thing Mulder wants is to read whatever garbage he knows they've posted.

Mulder navigates over to another board — this one not a favourite but an oft browsed curiosity. This one is focused on the more earth-based unexplained, specifically Cryptids and other legendary folklore. 

The cryptid boards are not anymore active, but their posts are much more promising. There are a few posts that are new, floating at the top of the page. Mulder smiles to himself as he reads the usernames: there is one that's familiar and Mulder has been waiting to post again. The user, d4nd3l10n, has been writing stories documenting him and his friend going on long roadside camping trips to hunt monsters. Really, almost everything that the user writes is bogus, and Mulder _knows_ that because some of the cases reference monsters he and Scully have encountered on their cases - What Mulder has seen with his own eyes directly contradict at least half of d4nd3l10n's claims, and the stories get less and less believable as Mulder and Scully solve more cases and learn more about what is actually out there. 

However, d4nd3l10n's stories are very well-written, and at the end of the day — the weeks — Mulder has had, the thing he most wants to do is sit down and read some fun nonsense. Except, this time, Mulder finds a nagging feeling in his gut as he reads, as if he is missing something. Something important. The glowing monitor is too bright, and a headache starts to build. Mulder drops his head into his hand to massage his temples. A glance at the clock, and — it's late. He has work in the morning. With his dinner eaten and the headache starting to build, he throws in the towel and calls it a night. 

The boards will be there tomorrow, and maybe he will feel more optimistic once he has gotten some sleep. He shuts down his computer and pops a couple of aspirin for the headache. 

By the time his head hits the pillow, the headache is fading fast. 

That feeling in his gut though, that one stays.

* * *

One of their other, more concrete cases drags Mulder and Scully to Princeton University to talk to a professor who specializes in late modern and contemporary history. He's a friendly fellow, and well-read about his field. 

As the interview about their most recent case winds down, Mulder uses his chance to inquire about any small-scale generational conspiracies that may or may not be leaving a trail of bodies behind, as some sort of hail mary.

The professor, a man by the name of Sten Rhinsel, looks down his glasses at Mulder for a few long seconds as if to confirm that he heard Mulder correctly. 

"No, Agent Mulder I have not heard about any small-scale serial killing secret societies." Dr. Rhinsel's sigh is not vocalized, per se, but it is felt in the room anyway. 

Mulder can feel Scully's eyes landing heavily on him. 

"Though," Dr. Rhinsel continues, "If secret societies are what you are chasing, our very own Dr. Julian Pankratz is an expert, I believe. Despite the fact his specialty is medieval literature, I have heard more than a few of the faculty tell me Dr. Pankratz has more than his fair share of stories about your sort of conspiracies." 

Dr. Rhinsel glances at the clock on the wall, and quickly looks back to the two agents. "If you hurry you might be able to catch him before his next class."

Mulder jumps up from where he had been sitting on top of a desk. 

"Thank you for your help, Dr. Rhinsel," Scully said, rising quickly as well. "Do you know where his office is?"

Dr. Rhinsel flicks through his Rolodex and quickly scribbles down a room number on a small scrap of paper. "Dr. Pankratz's office's room number. It'll be in the social sciences building, across the quad and three buildings down," he says as he hands Scully the piece of paper. 

It takes Mulder and Scully no time at all to cross the quad and find the right building and wandering only a few minutes more lands the agents inside the cluster of offices for the faculty of history. Scully glances back at Dr. Rhinsel's note and gestures to an office to her right, its door ajar. Through a window beside the door, Mulder can see a man sitting at the desk, moving marked papers into a pile, a briefcase propped open on the man's left.

Scully knocks on the doorframe, making the man inside raise his head briefly. 

"Come in, the doors open!" the man says, as he pushes the papers he was looking at into a messy pile he then dumps on top of his filing cabinet. As the man turns to face the agents, Mulder is surprised by how young he looks especially when compared to some of the other professors he's met, all floppy hair and big blue eyes, with a pastel pink button-up shirt. If the man is surprised to see the two agents in his office he hides it well. 

"Well," He says with a smile, "I don't believe I recognize you two from Introduction to Lyrical Composition."

Mulder and Scully both blink.

"Oh, we were looking for a..." Scully checks the note again, "Dr. Pankratz? Your colleague, Dr. Sten Rhinsel said we should talk to him"

The man throws his arms wide, and he is smiling as he declares, 

"And you have found me! My name is Julian Pankratz," Dr. Pankratz pulls himself back to center, as he asks jovially, "And you are?"

Scully takes the hint for what it is, and pulls out her FBI badge, as does Mulder. 

"My name is Agent Dana Scully and this is my partner Agent Fox Mulder." Dr. Pankratz's smile freezes on his face, and his eyes flicker down to the IDs, then back to the agents. "And we wanted to talk to you about a case that my partner and I have been working on."

"Ah." Dr. Pankratz's tone loses much of its previous lightness and his smile fades "Well, that does put a damper on things, doesn't it?" Dr. Pankratz sits down heavily in his chair, and evaluates them for a few long seconds, before gesturing them towards the other two chairs in his office.

"I believe I heard something about a case?", Dr. Pankratz states, as the agents settle into the chairs in front of him. He looks thoughtful, evaluating — and not much like the enthusiastic young man who greeted them only a few dozen seconds before. "Though I do not know why you came to _me_ with it."

Mulder shifts slightly. 

"This case we are working on, is… odd. And Dr. Rhinsel said you might be able to help us with it." A look of realization dawns on the professor's face.

"Sten sent you to me?" He shifts toward the two agents, "Colour me intrigued." 

As Mulder goes on to detail exactly what sort of information they are looking for, Scully looks around the office. There are instruments and sheet music stacked on every flat surface, and an extremely old looking lute hanging on the wall. Scully thinks back to what class Dr. Pankratz joked about when they arrived, Introduction to Lyrical Composition. She has to ask. 

Scully interrupts Mulder's laundry list of questions with a sharp question:

"Dr. Pankratz, what are your studies in, exactly?" 

Dr. Pankratz hums to himself as he answers, 

"You know, a lot of people ask me that?" Seeing Scully's raised brow, Dr. Pankratz flaps a hand toward her. "I have dual doctorates in Musicology and Literature, with a specialization in the Medieval period but have studied all the way to the Contemporary. Is it the instruments? I always have people asking about the instruments" At that Dr. Pankratz gestures around him at the numerous instruments. "And really, what Agent Mulder over here is asking about is based in folklore." 

Seeing Scully's uncomprehending face, Dr. Pankratz continues, "You see, when something happens, especially the extraordinary, people will tell others about it. At first, it is mostly accurate, a bit of information shared over tea. But as the information gets spread further and further from the source, people begin to forget where it came from, as it passes into local common knowledge. Parents often pass down their knowledge through stories and myths. Repeat this cycle for generations, until all who had ever conceived that that fairy tale ever actually happened is long dead. Boom! Fragments of long-forgotten knowledge, hidden between the pages of children's books, and in the folklore told at bedtime!"

Dr. Pankratz leans forward in his chair, and smiles a wide toothy grin. "And folklore is my specialty." 

Scully is trying to keep a politely curious smile on her face through the ramble and sneaks a glance at Mulder, who seems to be much more interested in the story Dr. Pankratz is spinning. 

"Now," Leaning back in the chair, letting his feet push him side to side, Dr. Pankratz mutters to himself, "You are looking for a conspiracy to interfere in federal cases that spans generations probably, while also being small in number with only a few people involved. Probably a pass-down of duties from parent to child. Probably not associated with any government. Hmm." An odd, unreadable look crosses Dr. Pankratz's face, and his direct attention returns to the agents "Can I do some research and then get back to you? Because I really will need to talk to some people about this, and I have a class that starts in-," Dr. Pankratz looks at his wristwatch and his eyes widen, "damn, four minutes ago."

As Mulder and Scully stand and thank him for his time, Dr. Pankratz shoves the papers from the top of his filing cabinet into his briefcase and swings a huge, ancient-looking sheepskin coat over his shoulder. It dwarfs him, and the level of grime on it — stains, dirt, a bad tear in the hem — is incredible for such a neatly put together professor. Mulder manages to fish out a business card and the professor tucks that too away in the briefcase. 

After Dr. Pankratz ushers the agents out of his office and locks the door behind them all, Scully extracts a promise of a future interview to discuss what he finds, at a later date. 

Then Mulder and Scully watch as Dr. Pankratz gives them a little wave before pivoting on his heel and sprinting down the hallway, his converse hightops clapping loudly against the floor. He turns a corner to another hallway, fast. Too fast. His shoes almost slip on the tight turn, but through some measure of flailing, skill and pure dumb luck, he manages to keep his feet under him. The last they see of Dr. Pankratz is the tail end of his coat, stained by age and who knows what else, fluttering around the corner. 

"Well," Mulder starts after the footfalls have faded, "I think something is up with this Dr. Pankratz." Scully turns to him, brow furrowed. 

"Why do you say so? I thought he was a bit weird, yes, but no more than half the people we talk to on our cases." The 'and you find them absolutely believable' is unspoken, but they have been working together too long for Mulder to not hear what Scully is trying to say.

Mulder grimaces. He knows Scully will not like his answer. 

"...Intuition? Besides, even if his research doesn't pan out, the bit about the kernel of truth in all stories… It makes a man think." Scully huffs out a laugh at that, before turning back the way they came just a few minutes before, speaking over her shoulder to Mulder, who is standing, still looking at the space they had last seen Dr. Pankratz.

"C'mon Mulder, we have a more urgent case to solve than that of a weird professor."

* * *

In the few days and a weekend since they talked with Dr. Pankratz, Mulder has read every post on the cryptid boards back to their conception and has thumbed through more than this fair share of mythologies and historic fairy tales. There is not much that he thinks is relevant to the case, anyway. At least at a first glance. The standard children's books of Mulder's youth were quickly thumbed through and replaced for more obscure, older collections of stories. 

As Mulder reads books arching further and further back in time, he begins to get a bigger picture. He sees how the stories shift and evolve, and can connect many of the odd changes with his shallow knowledge of historical events. 

Yet there is something that itches at him.

It is almost like chasing shadows, as the stories and legends he reads are compiled into his brain. A weird not-pattern is extracted, inch by aching inch. Not-pattern a loose term for the vaguest of similarities that are too oddly accurate to be anything _but_ related. 

In a Victorian book of nursery rhymes Mulder finds the description of a beast, a white wolf with glowing eyes who eats its own kind in the shadows of the night. A 17th-century text from Italy speaks of a light-haired angel cast from heaven and cursed with devilish eyes, who repents by walking the wild forests against the other unspeakable and unending demons. A 13th-century songbook from Poland speaks of a man, cursed and moulded to be more than what he was born as, fate and duty-bound to protect those less strong. A man who always walked apart from those he protected, like a wolf to a pack of dogs. 

The pieces do not line up, but for so many stories, so many different similarities over centuries, over thousands of miles…

Mulder has to ask himself if there isn't some big, obvious truth that he just hasn't realized yet. 

All of his thoughts swirl around in his head, trying to piece together what little bits of concrete information he has, with the incalculable volumes of theories he starts to build then throws away, as they become unbelievable, even for him. 

Stories and case files, legends and the unknown... 

Mulder brings his attention back to the case and the exact facts that he knows. His hand is on his chin as he stares at the cases tacked to the wall, and the ones in a pile of presumably linked cases on the table below. That said table is covered in cases, nearly bending under the strain.

The itch in his gut is back. Mulder's trusty intuition, that is telling him that he has missed something. Overlooked a vital detail, or presumed a tiny, fundamental fact wrong. 

He is reminded, suddenly, of Dr. Pankratz sitting in his pastel pink shirt, top buttons undone and his casual air as he explained the tiny truths that can be found in innocuous places. Surprising truths. _Unexpected_ truths. 

Thinking of unexpected truths brings Mulder's mind to that user from the cryptids forum, who posts the laughably inaccurate posts. The ones that sometimes have weirdly obscure and accurate details. Details like the exact scent of a haunted item, the way inhuman eyes reflect light. Details that probably were overlooked despite the clear attempts at obfuscation, details that the author did not realize he had to hide. 

_If the stories are at least partially accurate, if fairy tales thousands of miles and hundreds of years apart can hold truths_ Mulder's brain murmurs to himself, _What's to say the user,_ Mulder is racking his brain for the screen name, ah, yes, _d4nd3l10n, isn't retelling actual things that happened and just fudging the more obvious facts to keep people off his trail?_

It is like his brain has clicked two pieces together, and suddenly everything else falls into place. 

The way their cases were muddled by the time Mulder and Scully arrived, yet some amount of 'karmic justice' would already be given out, as they would often joke uneasily. The way suspects were found killed, missing, or injured in unrelated incidents. 

Their shadowy interference was not obstructing cases, but _solving them_

It was never about Mulder and Scully, never about the feds. Not at all. Mulder and Scully had just stumbled onto people - maybe only a few people? - fixing the messes the inexplicable left. 

Mulder can feel his jaw so slack. 

Of course. 

Of course, it was stupid to not realize, it was an oversight of astronomical proportions. How did he and Scully never notice? There have been the unexplained, the inexplicable for as long as humans have been kicking around on this earth. The creatures that made their way into the x-files, the earth-grown ones at least, were often isolated incidents. A few deaths in an isolated area years apart usually. 

If there had been more creatures though? Whole colonies and species of the creatures that Mulder and Scully have seen that preyed upon humans, the human race would stand no chance!

A new theory begins to worm its way into Mulder's brain. The rare creatures he and Scully sees are too few to be thriving. They must be dying out, and they could be counted as the last dregs of the creatures of old. To be the last, means to have all others die before oneself. Mulder knows exactly how hard to kill many of these creatures are, and how many seem impervious to time. 

It would have to be a group of… hunters, he'd imagine. Or some sort of very dangerous warrior-cult, maybe. The individuals that have been hunting down the things that go bump in the night would have to be very dangerous indeed. 

Mulder is thinking once again of the stories he has been reading. The way they all seem to agree on very little, yet are specific in how they disagree. The eyes, there is always something with the eyes — be it bestial, cursed, or somehow off. The hair too, described as ghostly pale, a stark white. Swords feature heavily, but always in the plural.

Beyond that scant agreement, there is no clear answer to the question of what the hunter _is_. 

Some stories call the hunter 'The Wolf'. Others never name him. One obscure polish songbook simply calls the hunter Gerald. 

Either way, there is no way of knowing if the hunter is an actual, immortal creature-hunting wolf with white fur and claws like swords, or a long line of people who all - possibly bearing the same white hair and eyes - were trained generation by generation to keep the creatures at bay.

The idea of a small, master to apprentice monster hunter conspiracy spanning centuries is much more likely, but Mulder's wolf theory would be _so cool_.

Mulder knows he will need whatever information the professor can scrape up to do any further work on this infuriating, brilliant case. So Mulder carefully packs that train of thought, and jots down some notes, to be continued later. Nothing he can do about it right now. And so he pushes his thoughts back to the cases, on the wall in front of him.

Comparing this new perspective against the cases he thinks could be involved is invigorating. This hunter theory fits the suspected involved cases like a glove, and it clarifies some unanswered questions in a few of the cases. 

The arson of the evidence scene from the case with the poltergeist? A remedy from many an old wives tale to clear out ghosts.

Weird hair and/or fur sample stolen? Possibly to keep the proof of the existence of whatever it had come from as far as possible from the U.S. Government. 

Why was the park ranger, last in a long line of murder victims, stabbed? That Mulder does not know, but he does have a few ideas. 

Thinking about hunters hunting monsters loops Mulder's brain back to the story of the two friends who hunt monsters, which leads back to Dr. Pankratz's theory of Truth in Fiction. 

This reminds Mulder — he turns to Scully, who is just saying her goodbyes into the phone. It's late afternoon on a Friday and long past lunch, the perfect time to finish up paperwork and to follow up on meetings with outside individuals for the upcoming week.

"Scully, have you heard back from Dr. Pankratz? I have a few theories, and I want to go over what he's found before we lose another case."

Scully sighs with an unhappy twist of the lips.

"I hadn't heard anything from him so I called his office at Princeton. Unfortunately our Dr. Pankratz is out of the office until further notice and is unreachable."

Mulder frowns too. 

"That's weird. He didn't mention he was going away?"

"The office administrator said it was, and I quote, very last minute, unquote. Apparently he does things like this all the time? She said his partner often drops in unexpectedly and Dr. Pankratz will often leave with him and be gone for a few days. The administrator said not to worry and that she'll call us as soon as he is available."

"Huh," Mulder states, blankly. 

At that, a harried-looking agent pops his head into Mulder and Scully's shared office. 

"Hey Scully, Mulder. We've just picked up a case from a local department upstate that appears to be ongoing. The next death looks to be tonight if the pattern holds. Skinner said it is similar to that one you had with a park ranger, a few months ago?"

That case with the park ranger, found naked with amnesia the night the pattern of other maulings in that same park stopped. The sort of case that fits the M.O. of the hunter exactly. 

_If we can get there fast enough, we might be able to be there before this hunter shows up,_ flashes through Mulder's mind. He starts to smile. 

Finally. Mulder is going to break this case wide open. 

"Yes, we've got it covered," Mulder says to the agent as he grabs his coat, badge and gun. "C'mon Scully, we've got a road trip!" is shouted over his shoulder as Mulder strides towards the desk to sign the requisition forms for a car.

* * *

Scully had noticed Mulder's good mood a few minutes after they had gotten into the car, but had managed to avoid asking about it by reading and then analyzing their new case file for a vast majority of the drive to Northern Pennsylvania. At least, she didn't bluntly ask about it until their car had pulled into the gravel lot for the trailhead of a heavily wooded forest park and local hiking spot.

"Okay, do I want to know what makes you so excited?" She asks, eyebrows raised. Mulder hums good-naturedly in response. 

"I have a theory, Scully, that I need to substantiate a little more before you can pick it apart. It needs more evidence though, so we will both just have to wait and see," Mulder says. "And don't forget your flashlight. Night falls fast in a forest."

Scully and Mulder had taken the chance before they left D.C. to change into some outdoor wear for their trek into the woods. Mulder puts his gun on his belt, and makes sure his grip is easy to grab under his big olive-green coat. Scully does the same, and zips her blue windbreaker up to the bottom of her turtleneck's collar. 

The sun has just begun to set as Mulder and Scully start at the trailhead. Their first stop is to go to where the bodies are discovered, a forty-minute hike from the lot. Scully had found and marked the locations where the mauled and half-eaten bodies had been found on the park map during the drive north. 

Mulder is determined to get a head start on the case before this hunter can come in and muddy the case, and Scully only had a token protest to Mulder's night hike plan when he proposed it in the car.

Only a few minutes after walking on the trail, they both need to turn on their flashlights. The thick foliage and dense, tall trees leave little light to see by. The trail is well marked, a wide slash through the thick foliage that grows between the dense trees on either side of the trial. Forty minutes of walking and they reach their first location of interest. It is only a few meters off the trail, and with the body already retrieved by local search and rescue, there is not much else to see at first. 

The file Scully had read aloud in the car had noted deep gouges on a few trees, nearly eight feet off the ground. 

She swings her beam across a few different trees before seeing the splintered bark. 

They both step closer to inspect the markings. They both realize fairly quickly that the gouges have been made by some sort of claws, and a little shiver goes down their spines. Scully risks a glance behind them, as if to make sure there isn't anything about to pounce from their blind spot. 

_If the gouges, both this deep and this high on the tree, came from an animal no wonder it can get so many hikers,_ Mulder thinks. 

With a few more minutes of poking around, Mulder decides to move on to the next site, and they return to the trail. 

Scully holds the map, as Mulder holds both flashlights. Scully points out their next location on the map; Another half an hour on the same trail, then a few hundred yards northeast at the fork. 

But they have only been walking for about fifteen minutes when Mulder's intuition starts to scratch at the back of his neck. The forest had been quiet before, he realized, but now it was near silent. There was only a slight rustle of treetops in the wind. 

To both his and Scully's dawning horror, there is now a noise from the forest on the left side of the trail. It had been obscured by the noise of the wind through the treetops, but that noise is unmistakable. The faint, far-away sound of something crashing through the thick foliage, breaking branches and shrubs as it moves. 

And it seems to be getting louder. 

Both Scully and Mulder turn to face the left side of the trail, switching their flashlights to their respective offhand, and drawing their service pistols. 

Their flashlight beams and gun barrels point parallel as they face towards the noise. 

The crashing is getting louder, closer, at an unthinkably fast rate. The volume of noise is telling Mulder that the creature is larger than he'd assumed, and for a creature that large to be that fast, sends cold sweat rolling down his back. 

The feeling of having to wait, Mulder realizes, for what could be your death is not great. 

Because what can they do, in a forest at night? If they try to run away, it will probably kill them both the same way it killed the other hikers before they could make it back to their car. Besides, they have no hope of finding the trail again if they just run blindly into the forest, this far from anything else, night time or not. 

No, running was never an option, he realizes. it is better to be prepared. At least this way, Mulder muses darkly, we face our death. Maybe shoot it a little bit.

Risking a glance at Scully, she meets his look at the corner of her eye. Mulder knows she has drawn the same conclusion that he has. 

"It's been an honour, Agent Mulder." She says, calmly but with no less emotion behind it for that. 

Mulder forces himself to look away from her, back towards the noise that is continually getting louder and louder. 

He clears his throat, and manages an even response:

"And Agent Scully, it has been an absolute pleasure working with you." 

Then there is just the waiting, as their flashlights illuminate the bushes, and the barrels of their guns hold steady. A few seconds pass by, and the noise is getting louder and louder-

The hairs on the back of Mulder's neck rise between heartbeats, and from the corner of his eye he sees a dark blur of movement propel itself off a sturdy tree and lunge at Scully.

He tries to move, tries to pivot on his feet and point his gun to shoot, but the creature — must be a creature, all fur and limbs, moving too fast for his gun to track — is already in motion, already midair by the time Mulder starts to turn. 

It was lunging from behind them, from the silent side of the trail. They are facing in the wrong direction — Scully's back is to it, a perfect opportunity for the predator that had mauled hikers unaware.

Both Scully's flashlight and gun hit the forest floor at the same time she does, laid sprawling by the force of the creature hitting her back. 

And Mulder hadn't moved his gun fast enough to hit it before it had tangled up with Scully, and now he doesn't have a clear shot at the huge, furry creature. He can't chance hitting Scully, Mulder realizes, this far from a hospital. Its body, hunched over his partner, dwarfs her, and Mulder had heard the way she hit the ground, can see the way the thing's claws are digging into her shoulders, and his mind is moving as if through molasses. He can't find the space to think, to act like he's been trained to do while Scully starts to scream in pain. 

And the noises from the left side of the trail are almost on top of them, the crashing and breaking through the forest mixing with the sounds of pain Scully is making rising to a horrible crescendo. 

Mulder almost wants to laugh — what's a worse way to go, he thinks, mauled to death, or forced to watch, listen to his partner get mauled to death, then be killed by whatever other horrifying creature is crashing through the woods behind him. He can't even figure out where to point the gun, at Scully's attacker, or the unknown party. 

With a spray of debris the bushes that he and Scully had been watching, that had left her back vulnerable, breaks open like the gates of hell. And that something is moving faster than his eye can track, let alone his gun. 

Mulder is not even sure if the thing touches the ground it is moving so quickly. It flies out of the bushes, a blur of white and brown and a metallic glint as it hurtles towards Scully, impacting the creature perched on top of her with a solid meaty thunk. It — the new creature — hits the one on Scully with so much momentum that the new creature tears the furry creature off Scully, claws and all. As they impact, they roll across and then off the trail, the tangle of limbs disappearing into the dense foliage. 

The whole thing takes less than a second. 

Mulder finally can make his limbs move again, and he points the gun towards the bushes where both creatures rolled. Some noises ring out, breaking branches and the thrashing of the bushes. His blood is rushing in his ears, and his heart is pounding. Scully is still on the ground and he cannot hear her moving. 

But still alive, he realizes, watching her prone figure from the corner of his eye, and the way it is moving enough to convince himself she's still breathing. With a shuddering breath, Mulder can see in his periphery, Scully groan and roll from where she landed on her stomach onto her back.

Mulder lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, but his mouth is still bone dry. He keeps his gun pointed straight at the bushes, as he side-steps towards Scully. He stops once he has one foot right by her ribs, and he risks a glance down. 

He can see the way the thing's claws had ripped her windbreaker at both shoulders, and he can see through to the turtleneck beneath. Some of it is white, yes, but there is red. This close he can smell the distinctive metallic tang of blood. 

She shifts slightly and lets out another pained groan. Mulder has to swallow once, twice to talk.

"Scully? You okay?"

"...Yeah. Just… Got the wind… knocked out of me. Fuck, what _was_ that?"

While Mulder tries to think about where to even begin to explain what he saw attack her, Scully follows the barrel of Mulder's gun to the bushes both creatures had rolled into. 

A pause makes Mulder and Scully listen to the loud sounds that are happening in the bushes between the creatures. A whole series of growls and the thuds of flesh against flesh. The creatures sound like they were trying to tear each other apart with their teeth. 

"Mulder!" is hissed by Scully, and Mulder can only imagine how much Scully wishes she has her gun right now. He can see hers lying a few yards away from where it had been knocked away during the initial attack. 

The yowls and grunts are indicating that those two are occupied for at least a few seconds. Mulder should have enough time. As gently as he can, Mulder pulls Scully upright with his left hand and passes her his gun. He looks between Scully, holding his gun pointed at the noisy bushes, full of pained yelps and deep throaty grunts. She tells him with a glance that she had him covered, and to grab her damn gun. He stumbles the few short yards, hands scrambling in the pine needles and dirt. One hand hits the grip, and the flashlight is grabbed quickly after. He is faster getting back to Scully, as he sees her listing gently to one side despite her best efforts to keep the gun pointed at where the creatures sound to be. He drops the flashlight in her lap and pulls her upright again, then he pulls her a few feet back and props her against a tree. Mulder picks the flashlight up again, as he stands to survey the whole area around them. They got ambushed once, and he does _not_ want it to happen again. 

As suddenly as the first creature arrived, the noises from the two creatures fall away, returning the silence of the forest. The treetops still gently rustle in the breeze.

Mulder and Scully both steady their aim at the bushes that were previously a hive of activity.

"FBI, come out of the bushes with your hands up!", Mulder barks into the silence of the forest.

A beat. Then several more, before the bushes begin to move again. Their flashlights shine into the darkness. 

They find two glowing eyes that are staring at them, looming from between the trees. 

Mulder's throat goes dry for the second time that day, and he can feel the hair all over his body stand on end. He knows he is being watched by something, an apex predator, one that may have already killed the creature that could've very easily killed Scully. 

Scully takes a sharp breath and hisses out from the corner of her mouth "Mulder, human eyes do not glow like that."

Mulder, either optimistically or bullheaded, murmurs back, "They could."

Scully takes one more deep breath, this one more for patience than fear, and hisses back at him, voice rising at the end. 

"Okay Mulder, let me restate. Human eyes cannot do that!"

The eyes do not move, glowing out from the darkness. 

Mulder redoubles his grip and raises his voice, throwing it so anyone in the vicinity can hear him clearly.

"Whoever - or whatever is out there, you have just attacked federal agents. The best way this will end is if you surrender peacefully into custody."

The eyes tilt slightly. Mulder can imagine a huge wolf-like beast cocking its head to listen better. He can barely suppress the full-body shudder. Scully's voice - shot through with bits of pain and fear - calls out.

"Slowly exit the bushes with your hands up."

The thing in the bushes steps forward, glowing eyes bobbing in the darkness until it pushes through the foliage and it is found in the beams of both flashlights. It curls away from the light and raises one hand to shield it's face from the brightness, the other holding the other creature, the one who had attacked Scully, bound with rope. It - he? - looks like any other outdoorsman who would be hiking through the woods that night: a greyish Patagonia sweater, thick, worn jeans and heavy boots, tied past the ankle. He is covered in debris; dirt and leaves, probably from when he had wrestled with the other furry creature, Mulder guesses. 

The… man, they realize, lets out a soft hiss. He's caught in the both beams of light, his lip curling to show an impressively sized canine tooth as he drops his hand away from his face. He blinks a few times, as if to clear his eyes, and then focuses on the gun barrels that are levelled at him. Those eyes slide up to meet Mulder and Scully's, and Mulder does not want to know what sort of face he is making, as he meets those burning, yellow eyes. His mind whispers devil eyes, at the sight of the cat-slit pupil, narrow in the light. 

No matter how many inexplicable things Mulder may have seen, it can still punch the breath right out of his chest.

Mulder can feel his jaw go slack. Scully was right. Those are not human eyes. 

The man, or perhaps not, moves slowly but with a quiet ease as he puts the trussed creature softly against the forest floor. As he straightens in one smooth motion, dangerous eyes tracking both of the agents, Mulder can see a metallic glint over his broad shoulder. 

With his body squared towards the agents, and with no other creature to hide behind, Mulder and Scully can see exactly how lethal-looking the not-man is. His pitted leather cuirass sits over a well-muscled chest, a handgun holstered on each thigh. A fluorescently neon fanny pack sits comfortably over his right hip. And over his shoulder, not one but two — two! — swords are sheathed, the worn leather straps running over the scuffed cuirass.

Mulder hadn't ever seen LARPers armoured this well, despite his extensive experience back in college. And from his experience with those shoddy costumes? Everything the man was wearing looked like it had genuinely seen some real wear and tear. 

Despite the way Mulder's brain and training screams to him that the not-man is dangerous, an apex predator he has no chance against, the not-man is decidedly not making any sort of aggressive moves. His hands are held carefully wide and not near any of his many visible weapons. Though his stare never leaves the agents, and his face is stony grim.

The indisputable fact that the not-man, pinned by their guns, is dangerous is backed up by the furry lump that lay on the ground, unmoving. He must've wrestled it, and - overpowered it? Killed it? Neither he or Scully can tell from their distance, and in the dark. Either way, that furry creature had moved fast and could've gutted Scully if the not-man was a few minutes, _Seconds_ Mulder's traitorous brain murmurs, later. 

As though able to see into the whirling mess of fear, anger, and adrenaline that Mulder is battling against, in his effort to get him and his partner out of the forest without needing a body bag, the not-man's burning yellow stare lands heavily on Mulder. The stony face in front of them slowly sinks into a much stormier one, as the not-man's eyebrows draw together and a frown sinks ever heavier onto his face.

That shiver, that Mulder had felt too many times that night, runs down his back at the sheer sense of helplessness he felt in the face of the not-man, this predator with his glowing eyes and stark white hair.

The man's gaze, still locked onto Mulder as if he could smell his fear, flickers to just over Mulder's right shoulder. Mulder's training makes him hold steady, to keep his eyes trained on the immediate threat in front of him instead of succumbing to his base level instincts, as he had already done too many times this night.

Mulder mutters under his breath, "Scully, five o'clock." He can hear her murmur her agreement, as she shifts to cover Mulder's back. She hisses in pain as she moves, and the man's eyes flicker towards her for a second. Mulder works to keep his eyes on the threat, but he can feel himself wince in sympathy.

Scully has moved not a second too soon, as it turns out. A voice from some distance behind him begins to talk, even before Mulder can hear the distinctive sound of bushes scratching across a windbreaker. 

"Ah, Geralt, there you are! You always do find the most inopportune times to wander off." 

The man's voice is familiar, though Mulder can't immediately place it. From the corner of Mulder's eye he can see a vibrant windbreaker, as the man pushes through the bushes behind him and steps onto the trail. Is that-?

The newcomer stops in the middle of the trail brushing off his neat jeans, facing both Mulder, Scully and their mystery not-man. He lifts his head, towards the agents, and Mulder recognizes the floppy hair and big blue eyes, as they had talked to the man barely two weeks ago. 

"Ah." The professor, Dr. Pankratz, blinks at the tableau he had wandered into, what with the agents holding a very lost non-human LARPer at gunpoint, not even beginning to discuss whatever furry creature that lay in a pile on the dirt. As he sees the gun Scully has pulled on him, Dr. Pankratz raises his hands with a wry smile. "I do have to say, I've gotten warmer receptions."

Mulder pulls his eyes back towards the not-man — Scully has the professor, and he is much more concerned with the man in his own crosshairs. 

Geralt, the professor had called him.

Mulder can see Geralt drop his chin, his face going impossibly more thunderous. His open hands are no longer peaceful but rather braced as if they were claws, as he pulls back his frown to show teeth. Mulder's hindbrain is screaming at him, that this is not a person but a beast. The low growl that rumbles out of Geralt's chest and across the trail is that of a wolf, before Mulder can tell his brain that _no_ , despite his eyes and teeth and — everything really, Geralt is human-shaped and not whatever beastly aura he is projecting so effectively. 

Scully still has her gun pointed at the professor, but Mulder would be incredibly surprised if she hadn't noticed Geralt's change in mood. 

"Doctor Pankratz. What on earth are you doing here? " Scully asks, voice steady at the chance to deal with possibly the only normal part of this standoff the agents found themselves in the middle of. 

"Oh, you know." Dr. Pankratz is trying for a light and breezy tone, but it falls flat as he shrugs his shoulders, hands still raised. He clears his throat, looks at Geralt, and continues, "I just... love to hike. My friend and I, we can't get enough of it!"

Scully looks almost affronted at the bold and obvious lie, but Dr. Pankratz's face barely betrays his nervousness. His eyes flicker over the scene once more, but he offers no other explanations. 

Geralt continues to loom. It is pants-shittingly terrifying.

Scully tone is sharp, as she speaks, staring Jaskier dead in the eye,

"Your friend fits the profile of the killer we have been following, and for him to show up, here, on the night of the presumed next victim? I think that makes him the prime suspect, and you _his_ accomplice, as we see it." 

Dr. Pankratz shakes his head vigorously, "No, you've got it all wrong! We were..." he hesitates. "...hunting." At what must be Scully's disbelieving eyebrow raise Dr. Pankratz plows on. "I filed all the paperwork and everything. Completely legal!" 

Dr. Pankratz's story could be believable, Mulder thinks, if he didn't see Geralt glowering at him. Or evidence of what Geralt could be capable of. Luckily, Scully is following events just as well as Mulder is, despite her injuries. 

"He can move faster than anything I have ever seen. My eye couldn't track him, as he tackled that creature off of my back," Scully nods towards the pile of fur, still tied fast. " and then wrestled with it until he dragged it out of the bushes tied up like a trussed turkey."

Dr. Pankratz looks at a loss of words, as is Mulder. 

The way that Scully had laid out their entire scenario, makes Mulder start to feel some pieces of the puzzle slot into place. The eyes of a demon, yellow iris with a cat's pupil. The way folklore always described the hunter as either a man-like beast, or a beast-like man but never explicitly called him human. The white wolf, and Geralt in front of them with long white hair, and sharp canines. How Geralt moves too fast, and is too strong and has the stare of an apex predator who could tear out a heart with his teeth. A man who wears armour that looks older than some states, and the two swords that glint over his shoulder, old and powerful. It is not a lineage of hunters, no. It is _one man who has fought for centuries_. 

"Holy shit." His gun arm relaxes slightly, unconsciously. "Are you… the hunter, from the stories? The White Wolf?"

Dr. Pankratz is looking at Mulder, wide-eyed, then turns to the very dangerous, probably immortal legendary monster hunter, and throws his arms in the air. His rant starts loud and only gets more impassioned. 

"You are unbelievable!" He starts to walk towards the hunter, as comfortable in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night as he was in his own office, back at Princeton.

"I try so hard to keep people off the scent, and then you just… Do all your nonsense," a very stern finger points towards Geralt, as Geralt straightens his body from his previous crouch, fierce scowl still on his face. "And now they know you exist, and you will be taken by the men in black and probably _experimented on_!" 

Mulder by now has partially lowered his gun, stunned by the flagrant casualness of Dr. Pankratz in what should be a very fraught situation. Scully has her gun resting on the ground by her thigh, having clearly deemed Dr. Pankratz an unarmed civilian and not a threat. 

But Dr. Pankratz was not done, marching over to where Geralt stood, pinned first by Mulder's gun and now by his sudden approach.

The professor walks right into Geralt's admittedly very large personal space bubble until they are almost chest to chest. He has been talking through his entire approach, not even breaking stride. 

"Do you know what the U.S. Government does to things when they cannot explain them?"

Then he prods the cuirass with one finger, hard. Geralt, still, stands as if made of stone. Not even a slight shift. 

Dr. Pankratz continues talking, not letting the terrifying man menace him. Really, Mulder thought it was very inspiring. 

"They make them _disappear_ , Geralt. Then they disappear anyone else who asks too many questions." Dr. Pankratz spins around and starts to walk away from Geralt again as if too overcome by emotion to be able to stand still, or near Geralt. "I will ask so many questions!" he yells at no one in particular. 

Geralt's admittedly thunderous frown seems to have been softened by Dr. Pankratz's speech, leaving Mulder and Scully more than a little off-balance, where they stood as a mere audience for the soap opera that this standoff is turning into.

Stony visage breaking, Geralt runs a hand down his face, letting out a sigh before speaking in a rumbling voice that paralleled the deep animalistic growls he had been doing earlier. 

"Jas", he starts, in a tone of voice both utterly soft and utterly exasperated. 

"No buts Geralt! I refuse to allow you to be taken by any shady government agencies!" Dr. Pankratz turns to Mulder and Scully, "As you do not have any evidence of any crimes we have decidedly not committed, I can safely presume that we are both not in custody. And as our every action tonight has been _absolutely_ legal, I think we will take our leaves. Good-night." He turns to leave, back down the trail towards the parking lot, his blue Jansport backpack swinging. 

Geralt is entirely unmoved by Dr. Pankratz's speech.

"We can't," Geralt says, firmly. 

Geralt hasn't moved an inch as Dr. Pankratz continues to power-walk down the trail. This time Geralt's tone of voice is much sharper, closer to a bark. 

"Jaskier!" 

Dr. Pankratz stops. Lets out an earth-shattering sigh, before turning back towards Geralt, arms crossed. He waits, one eyebrow arched in a silent question. 

"Agent Scully. She's injured. You have our first aid kit." 

Dr. Pankratz's focus shifts to Scully and the focus changes his face, from the dramatic over-reactions into something much more focused. His blue eyes widen, then narrow as they take in the blood that coats Scully's shoulders, and as Mulder takes in her injuries properly for the first time. 

There were several large claw slashes on each of her shoulders from the windbreaker through the skin, which had been steadily leaking blood for a few minutes, leaving tracts of red down her front. 

Scully is also looking down and looks to be seeing the blood for the first time. 

"Huh," She utters, her face paling as she realizes the wounds for the first time. "Yeah. I guess I do need something to stop the bleeding." 

Mulder's gun arm had fallen, pointing at the ground halfway between himself and Geralt. He is trying to think, trying to plan so that both he and Scully can make it out of this goddamn forest. With his partner down, he has no chance against Geralt. He knows that. Not even counting Dr. Pankratz, which puts the count at exactly two to one, in Geralt's favour. 

And yet… despite all of the ways that Geralt scares him, and the way he is so clearly not human, Dr. Pankratz seems to trust him. Is comfortable around him, even. And despite having a gun pointed at himself for the last few minutes, he never took any aggressive action. He could've, Mulder is realizing. Geralt can move fast enough that Mulder can confidently say that he could've taken down Mulder at any time he wanted, gun pointed at him or not. 

And Geralt clearly wasn't going to leave, despite how obviously Dr. Pankratz wanted to. The not-man had offered his own first aid kit, to what would likely be his detriment.

That fact alone, discounting all of the many legends of the White Wolf saving the innocent and hunting down monsters, makes Mulder want to trust him. Something in Mulder wants so badly to trust these two people, regardless of anything else, but - it is Scully's life on the line too. 

Mulder looks to Scully, and Scully looks to Dr. Pankratz, who has pulled his backpack onto his chest and is unzipping it. Scully's glance back to Mulder says all he needs to know.

Mulder is holstering his gun, already moving as Dr. Pankratz starts striding towards her too. Dr. Pankratz's hands are busy pulling the first aid kit from his backpack, dropping both beside where Scully has been propped against a tree. 

Dr. Pankratz unzips the kit in a fast and easy motion, setting it within arms reach of his spot beside Scully. Mulder drops to his knees by Scully as she begins to list to one side, adrenaline finally wearing out. He gets one hand fisted around the knot of fabric between her shoulder blades as he pulls her upright one again. 

"Hope you aren't emotionally attached to this sweater," Dr. Pankratz mutters, as he turns to rifle through the first aid kit. He finds the fabric shears quickly, and together he and Mulder cut the shoulders of Scully's turtleneck away, gripping the fabric tightly to not let either it or Scully slip. 

Mulder winces at the slight of the gashes. They are not too deep but the wounds are long, and oozing blood. Mulder tries to grab Scully's attention, knowing she would know the best way to treat her injuries.

"Hey, hey Scully," Mulder is very carefully not panicking. "You're the doctor here, you're going to have to tell us how to patch you up."

She blinks, once, twice, as if she is sorting her thoughts through molasses. However, she is a damn good doctor, and she gets her brain lined up quickly enough. 

"Right," she starts slowly, "First we need something to wash the wound… "

As Dr. Pankratz begins to tend to Scully, following her directions with oddly practiced hands, Mulder looks around the trail again. He sees Geralt, and perhaps he understands why the professor is so practiced in first aid. Geralt's arms are a patchwork of scars, with one huge nasty looking one crossing over his left eye. 

Though right now Geralt is leaning over the body of the furry creature, and they never did figure out what it was… Mulder turns back to Scully, guilty of his curiosity, just to meet Scully's amused face. 

"Go," she flops a hand at him, "Dr. Pankratz here is doing a great job. Go satisfy your perilous need for the truth." At that, even Dr. Pankratz had to turn to hide a smile.

Mulder stands on stiff knees and wanders over to where Geralt is leaning over the creature, his curiosity driving him closer to the creature, and to Geralt. Up close, Mulder can see how the fur of the beast is thin and grey in the beam of his flashlight. _It's alive_ , Mulder realizes, that furry chest rising and falling slowly. 

"What are you?" Mulder breaks the silence first. "I mean, are you human, or…?" Mulder can feel himself stumbling for the right words, the stress of the night leaving him with less tact then he'd try to have. "...Enhanced? Mutated? A government experiment that broke out and now wanders the forests of Pennsylvania hunting creatures with your two huge swords?"

There is a long pause as Geralt, head bowed away from Mulder in his examination, pointedly does not react. 

"Okay, yeah I get it. Some of those were touchy subjects." Mulder needs to try a different approach if he wants to get anywhere. "Are there many more of you out there?" At that question, Mulder, eyes riveted to Geralt's form, can see the tiniest of flinches. "Because clearly, you had to have learnt all of this _somewhere_ , and no sane person tries to fight anything with swords as a practical option." Mulder's insatiable curiosity was going to kill him someday. He hadn't thought it was going to be this day, but he also hadn't thought he and Scully would run into the weird professor they've met once before and his friend who apparently is some sort of monster hunter. A hunter who is the most dangerous thing in this forest, he'd wager, and here Mulder is poking him with questions. 

Ah well, never let it be said Fox Mulder was a coward. Just a recklessly curious, highly breakable man. His eyes watch the way Geralt pulls the creature's limbs, testing the motion. Looking into its ears and mouth, running a hand down its sides. A thought comes to Mulder's mind.

"Do you always kill what you hunt?"

Geralt's hands still for a moment over the creature, before he responds in a flat, edged tone.

"No."

Mulder crouches down beside the man. He is sure that if Geralt could, he would be halfway up a tree right now. However, Geralt is busy examining the creature, and Mulder is not one to be easily deterred.

"Why not?" He tries to ask it in a level, curious tone, no accusations or blame held. He is not sure he fully hits the tone he wants, until Geralt lets out a deep sigh, and tilts his head, considering. Mulder wonders how many other people he has had to explain this to, and how long it has been. If his instincts are correct, probably longer than Mulder expects.

" 's not about the killing, " Geralt starts slowly, his low gravelly voice soft enough to fade into the forest soundscape quickly. "It's about what will happen if I don't take care of it."

"And how do you usually take care of things?"

"Either I fix the problem, or I don't. _Then_ I'll kill the damn thing. If I have to." Geralt gestures to the creature in front of him. "Look. He was cursed to be beastly. The curse bound the man inside the body of a wolf. Forced human to animal transformations are usually nasty enough, but the person who made him into this form had a flair for the dramatic. She had cursed him to be like a wolf, both with a hatred and a hunger for humans every full moon, attacking anyone unlucky enough to take the trail through his forest on a full moon."

Mulder thinks back to the case report Scully had read aloud in the car on the drive up, what seemed like hours before. The story Geralt is telling would match all of the evidence they have, and it fills in some rather odd holes. As he turns his attention back towards Geralt, Mulder barely catches the way Geralt pulls a shining knife from somewhere, in a motion fast and smooth. Mulder can't even tell where he pulled it from. His boot, maybe?

Though that is a really big knife. Mulder thought he read Geralt correctly earlier, had bet Scully's life on it. 

"Are… you going to kill it?" Killing in self-defence is one thing, killing a bound creature is another - despite the body count it had already racked up. It had been restrained, surely it could be contained?

Knowing the weight of Mulder's question, Geralt's eyes flick towards him.

"No. His curse can be broken."

Geralt's knife reaches the creatures' chest before it rises back up. The only thing on the knife is a necklace's leather string, a thin mollusk shell painted with a slash of something rusty red, hanging from the blade.

Geralt cuts the necklace free, the shell spinning and turning as he stands, resheathing the knife. He holds the shell between a few of his fingers, and in one twist of his hands, breaks the shell. 

A loud snapping sound comes not just from the shell, but also the body on the ground, the smell of ozone thick in the air. Before his eyes Mulder can see the furry creature that had attacked Scully change, writhing in the dirt. The fur dissolves into smoke and the smoke into the air. The limbs shift a final time, and a person is lying where the creature was only seconds ago. 

Half of Mulder wants to shout expletives, and the other half is too tired of sudden, world-view shattering reveals to react now. Later, the whole night will hit him like a train, Mulder knows. Geralt, uncaring of Mulder's utter exhaustion grins, full of teeth. He's clearly pleased with himself. 

"Hmm. Thought so." Then he raises his voice a bit, clearly meant to carry to Dr. Pankratz and Scully. "He was cursed. Break the anchor, break the curse." Geralt looks thoughtful, then grimaces. "Usually, at least."

Mulder's brain is scrambling to keep up. "And the person who cursed him?"

"Killed her. Anyone willing to curse a man to kill others as an uncontrollable beast because of petty reasons is dangerous enough. Don't want any more of her beasts running around." 

Though that comment raises _many_ more questions than answers, Mulder knows that his time to talk to a genuine monster hunter is running out, as is Geralt's patience for questions. 

"You never did answer my first question. How many are out there, like you? Who else are hunting monsters, protecting people…"

Geralt straightens his spine and faces towards Mulder, arms crossing over his pitted cuirass and a scowl back on his face. 

"Consider it a mere… Professional courtesy." Mulder raises his hands in a placating gesture. "We never meet anyone who has real, actionable experience with stuff like this, and most of the people at the Bureau think we're paranoid and have lost it. When all we want to do is protect innocent civilians from the threats their governments try to hide, or the otherwise unexplainable that a well-adjusted person would have no reason to believe in, let alone that it would hurt them. We have been alone in this, and _anything_ you could share with us would be vital."

Geralt's burning yellow eyes look into Mulder's, but instead of the anger and ferocity he had seen in them earlier, this time they were evaluating. Not warm, but coolly assessing him, before Geralt turns away and crouches by the limp body of the man, his hands already pushing and pulling at the body, most likely evaluating the success of the curse-breaking. He starts to talk towards the body, but the words are to Mulder. 

"There are none like me. The rest have died, and I… am the last. When I started they called us wiedźmin. Roughly translates to Witcher. We've been mutated from men, by magic and alchemy long lost. We were made to be the best." Geralt's hands still, almost done with his re-examination, before they begin to move again. "The best at killing monsters, at least."

"How long?" Mulder screws up his face and adds "How long have you been a witcher?"

"Too long," Geralt utters, as he begins to unloop the ropes that now lay loose around the man's limbs. "Six centuries too long." Mulder does not know how to begin to digest the fact that the man in front of him, not looking a day over fifty-five at the absolute oldest was at least six hundred years old. He had theorized it, sure, but for the man to outright _state_ it?

"Mulder, let's get out of here." Scully's voice breaks through his wandering thoughts, and he turns to her; She's looking much better, her face still drawn and pale, but less so. Dr. Pankratz's jacket is tucked around her, and Dr. Pankratz has his backpack back over one shoulder. 

"Yeah, I think we're done too," Mulder says, "but what about-?"

With a small grunt, Geralt hefts the unconscious man into his arms, and cocks his head back down the trail, towards the gravel lot where Scully and Mulder had parked their car. He turns and just walks into the darkness past Scully's flashlight beam, as Mulder and Scully are again reminded of the witcher's physical superiority over humans.

Jaskier smiles fondly, and lets out a soft huff of air, as he says under his breath, "What a drama queen."

It took Mulder and Scully about one hour on the trail to hike in, but as a group it took much longer to hike out. The trek out might've taken longer, but it felt much shorter given the lack of imminent death hovering over their heads, and the constant stream of conversation that Dr. Pankratz - 

"Call me Jaskier. Or Julian. My friends do, Dr. Pankratz is far too stiff. See, applying first aid at night in the woods is basically a friendships' second base!" 

\- held almost entirely on his own. 

Mulder felt like he hadn't slept in a week, and he can only imagine how Scully was feeling. How on earth did Dr. Pankratz get all of his energy?

Eventually, they make it back to the trailhead, just as dawn is breaking. Mulder helps Geralt lie the newly uncursed man down in the backseat of the Bureau's car, and Dr. Pankratz is fussing over Scully in the passenger seat, insisting she take his jacket, as he has many others, and he doesn't want to see her get cold on their way to the hospital. Geralt had explained, on the walk back, that magic often will leave a creature exhausted and that after breaking a curse like this one Mulder and Scully shouldn't expect the man to wake up for a few dozen hours. Scully, using the medical degree that was so often useful in their line of work, said in no uncertain terms that the man had to get to a hospital. 

"For fluids at the very least. And I want to get some tests done too!" Scully says, leaning her head out of the car's window.

Mulder turns toward Geralt's impassible face. He has some things he has to say. 

"Thank you, Geralt. You saved my partner's life, and - well, both of our lives, really. I doubt anyone else could've resolved this with as low a body count as it has. So." Mulder holds out his hand as he smiles at the witcher. "From one professional to another. Thanks."

Geralt's blank visage cracks, for a second - his eyes widen just a bit, and his eyebrows lift. Has no one ever thanked this man before? 

Geralt's hand clasps Mulders. His hand is rough, calloused and strong, but his grip is soft. Gentle, even. The barest glint of a smile flickers over his face. "One professional to another."

Yeah, now Mulder can kind of see why Dr. Pankratz wasn't at all afraid of the more dangerous parts of Geralt. He really _is_ just trying to save as many as he can, isn't he? No acclaim, no reward, just the satisfaction of a job done and people alive tomorrow who could've died today. 

With that, Geralt releases Mulder's hand. He gives a nod to Scully in the passenger seat, who gives him a little wave in return, before he turns on his heel and walks - no, stalks away. A smooth, dangerous stride like that _must_ be classified as a stalk.

"Huh, he must like you." Dr. Pankratz smiles, all the way to his eyes as they both watch Geralt stalk across the parking lot. An old dark blue chevy pickup truck that neither Mulder nor Scully had noticed in the dark of their drive up is parked, nearly fading into the last shadows cast by the low boughs the truck sits under. "It's been… an adventure, Agent Mulder."

"Dr. Pankratz-" Mulder starts to pat down his pockets for a business card to give to him, but they all must be in his other work pants. "I believe you have our number?" He hesitates, still uncertain as he says it. "You know, in case you two ever run into trouble. An FBI badge can open some doors." 

Dr. Pankratz is looking at him, in an intense way that is eerily similar to Geralt's focused stare, his head tilted.

Then he is grinning in a boyish smile. 

"And you have mine, if you two ever find yourself with beasts in the woods. We'll see if we can't work together again sometime. Under more pleasant circumstances, I hope."

The truck roars into life, and a loud honk makes Mulder jump and Dr. Pankratz turn, already muttering under his breath about Geralt. 

"For someone so old he sure is impatient! Oh, Agent Mulder, my friends call me Jaskier." 

As Dr. Pankratz begins a loping run towards the truck, Mulder cups his hands around his mouth and yells after him, 

"And mine drop the Agent!"

A loud laugh echoes in the parking lot. In the car, Scully has nearly fallen asleep. The man in the backseat hasn't stirred. Another day, another case. But somehow, Mulder doesn't feel as alone this time, as he slides into the driver's seat. Light beams streaking through the trees, casting everything in a warm golden light. 

First job of the day, get to Scully and their uncursed mystery man to a hospital.

Next? Perhaps he will look through some old case files, see how many he can see with Geralt's fingerprints.

After that? Who knows. All he knows is that he and Scully have found two allies in this. And if his gut is saying anything it is that they are good friends to have.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, feel free to comment or give some kudos. 
> 
> Plus tell me how many Easter Eggs I've left in ;)
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://narwhalninja.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Fun Facts about this fic:
> 
> -Jaskier and Geralt consider monster hunts to be Date Nights. It is Very Romantic, to go hiking through the woods in the dead of night with your boyfriend (They are right). 
> 
> -Geralt's hunting style (not that much is shown) is pulled from the early seasons of Supernatural, because if he was a monster hunter in 1995 it look pretty similar to how the Winchesters live in early seasons, plus his two swords and some sort of armour (and all of his experience).
> 
> -Scully and Mulder call Jaskier a few weeks later on a case and they discover that Jaskier and Scully and Mulder really do have a lot in common. Geralt comes back from his extended road trips to do Witcher Business to the fact that Jaskier has befriended the FBI agents they meet in the woods. Jaskier has a brunch planned for the next morning for the four them. Geralt unexpectedly relates to Scully. They commiserate over little scones at said brunch. Mulder and Jaskier get them kicked out. It's a fun time.


End file.
